


Under Her Wings

by MirrorMystic



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Insomnia, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-02 06:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16781089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: Angella considers every Princess under her roof a daughter, of sorts. Even the newest, and most stubborn.





	1. Catra

**Author's Note:**

> Something short and (bitter)sweet. I hope you all enjoy the read. ^^

~*~   
  
“Having trouble sleeping?”   
  
Catra scowls. She pokes her head over the side of her perch in the rafters, her tail swishing in annoyance. Couldn’t a girl get up in the middle of the night and wrestle with insomnia and messy feelings in peace? But when she sees just who it is who’s calling her, Catra sighs and drops down.    
  
“You don’t know the half of it,” Catra mumbles, dusting herself off. “Your Highness. Your Majesty. Or whatever.”   
  
“Just ‘Angella’ is fine,” she says, prim and regal as ever, and the cynical part of Catra’s heart thinks a Queen letting a newcomer just call her by her name is coming on a little too strong.    
  
Catra’s pouting and arm-crossing and toe-tapping isn’t anything new, at this point. Angella looks her up and down, her lips pursed in thought, before clasping her hands in front of her waist.    
  
“...What troubles you, little one?”   
  
“Don’t call me that,” Catra snaps, reflexive. She blows out a sigh, glancing away. “Or do it. Whatever. You’re the Queen. You can do whatever you want.”   
  
Angella titters-- something that would almost be a laugh, if laughing openly wouldn’t break her regal image. She shakes her head.    
  
“...Being a Queen only means having the luxury of putting my own needs last,” Angella intones. “A child is freer than a queen.”   
  
“I’m not a child,” Catra glowers.    
  
“No, indeed,” Angella admits. “You are a woman grown, now, with a woman’s troubles.”   
  
“Yeah? Like what?”   
  
“Like love.”   
  
Catra made a face. She huffed and looked away, tail swishing, agitated.    
  
“...Listen, lady. Is there a point to this? Or can I go back to brooding by myself?”   
  
“It is difficult for you here,” Angella posed. “Bright Moon, the Rebellion… things are not as they once were, for you.”   
  
“Yeah, and?”   
  
“You and my daughter… do not get along.”   
  
Catra barked out a pained laugh. She turned towards Angella, propping a hand on her hip.    
  
“So, what? Is this the part where Mama gives me the shovel talk?”   
  
Angella blinked. “I-- I beg your pardon?”   
  
“You know, the whole ‘if you ever do anything to hurt my loved one, we’ll kick your teeth in, so you better treat ‘em right’ talk? And if they don’t treat ‘em right, you bury them? Hence the shovel?” Catra pressed. “...What, don’t you have shovels in the Rebellion?”   
  
“Do they let you have ‘loved ones’ in the Horde?” Angella drawled.    
  
Catra recoils as if she’s been slapped. She stares at her, working her jaw. After what feels like forever, her lips curl into a smirk.    
  
“...You got me there,” Catra mutters with a grudging smile.    
  
Angella titters, amused, raising a hand to cover her laughter as a proper lady should. After a moment, she lowers her hand, suddenly solemn.    
  
“So, then. What troubles you, child?”   
  
“It’s  _ nothing _ ,” Catra says, heaving a sigh that immediately outs her as a liar. Angella watches her, patiently, expectantly, and Catra barrels forward, annoyed. “It was nothing, alright? Nothing out of the ordinary anyway. Your daughter, Shimmer or Glitter or--”   
  
“Glimmer.”   
  
“ _ Whoever _ said some shit, then I said some shit, and then Adora came in and physically dragged me away so I didn’t do something  _ stupid _ .”   
  
“It isn’t stupid,” Angella murmurs.    
  
“Please,” Catra scoffs. “Pick a fight with the Princess of the Bright Moon, in her own castle, surrounded by guards and her best friends, an Amazon with a sword and super strength and a scratchy-voiced archer who’s trying his best?  _ I _ wouldn’t bet on me to make it outta there.”   
  
“I meant,” Angella says firmly, “it isn’t ‘stupid’ to be upset. Would you like to talk about it?”   
  
Catra studies Angella carefully, suspiciously, as if she isn’t sure if she’s being made fun of or not. Her tail curls, inquisitive, before she snatches her gaze away with a huff.    
  
“...Okay, no, we’re not doing this. I’m not here to open up about my feelings. I was having a  _ perfectly _ good mope without you, so no, I’m  _ good _ ,  _ thanks _ .”   
  
Dismay flicks across Angella’s eyes and doesn’t quite make it to her lips, her face still fixed in a mask of queenly composure.    
  
“...My apologies, Catra. But I am a mother, after all, not just a queen. It’s only natural that I worry.”   
  
Catra crosses her arms and growls, her tail swishing in irritation.    
  
“...you’re trying too hard…” Catra mutters.    
  
Angella takes a deep breath, and lets it out slow.    
  
“...I don’t think you’re used to someone trying  _ enough _ .”   
  
Flickers of red and black flash behind Catra’s eyes. She clenches her fists, claws biting into her palms. She gives Angella one last scowl, before stalking off down the hall.    
  
Angella sighs, watching Catra step out of the moonlight and back into the dark.    
  
Tomorrow, she’ll try again.   
  
~*~


	2. Adora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus chapter, two weeks later? Hey, why not? I hope you all enjoy the read!

~*~  
  
“I know what you’re thinking.”  
  
Angella knows well the look on Adora’s face-- draped across a balcony, gazing out past the Moonstone at something light years away. And she knows, even better, the look that it becomes when she whirls around and meets her eyes: the guilty look of a teenager caught sulking.  
  
Adora, for her part, tries to laugh it off.  
  
“Are you a psychic now, Your Majesty?” she scoffs, managing a smile.  
  
“No,” Angella titters. “But I am a mother. And a mother always knows.”  
  
Adora shrugs, trying to maintain her jocular grin.  
  
“...Try me, then.”  
  
“You are thinking about her,” Angella says simply.  
  
Adora sniffs, her smile growing distant, pained.  
  
“...Lucky guess…” Adora murmurs. She turns, slumping onto the balcony rail until her chin sinks into her crossed arms. Angella lingers in the doorway behind, her hands primly clasped before her.  
  
“You were… quite close,” Angella ventures. She clears her throat. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”  
  
Adora snorts. “Nope. You got me.”  
  
“And now you’re wondering where to go from here,” Angella murmurs. “If things will ever be the same.”  
  
Adora’s silence hangs heavy in the air.  
  
“I know what you’re thinking,” Angella continues, “because I've thought the same. Confused, lonely, lost, hurt. Wondering how long the pain would last. I know, because I felt the same way. When I lost Micah.”  
  
Adora bristles. She clenches a fist.  
  
“...I didn’t lose Catra,” she growls.  
  
“Didn’t you?” Angella asks.  
  
Adora sucks in a breath. She swipes a stubborn sleeve across her eyes.  
  
“...I don’t know what to do,” she admits. “I thought-- I thought it’d be easier than this. Catra’s here. She’s here, in Bright Moon. She’s on my side, on our side. I wake up to her every morning. I see her every day and every night. We _should_ be closer than ever. But somehow… somehow, she’s never felt further away.”  
  
Adora seethes, clutching the balcony rail until her knuckles are white.  
  
“She said… she said she’s not here for the Rebellion. She’s here for me. But she hates it here. I don’t blame her. I can’t, the looks she gets, what people say about her. I don’t want her to stay, if she just winds up hating me for it. But I don’t want her to leave. If she leaves, I don’t know if she’ll ever come back.”  
  
Adora blows out a breath, gazing up at the Moonstone, shining in the night.  
  
“...Things are weird now,” Adora mutters, leaning back on her arms. “Things are weird. Complicated. It was easier, back then.”  
  
“You are a woman, now, with a woman’s troubles,” Angella offers.  
  
Adora just shrugs.  
  
Angella raises an eyebrow. “Have you tried… _talking_ to her…?”  
  
Adora barks out a laugh, lips twitching into a grin. “Catra and I aren’t exactly the type to stay up all night talking about our feelings.”  
  
“Clearly,” Angella says dryly.  
  
“We were just… us,” Adora shrugs. “We didn’t question it. We didn’t talk about it…”  
  
Adora stops short. She glances over her shoulder, sees the look Angella’s giving her.  
  
“...We… didn’t talk about it,” Adora mutters. “So the things we didn’t talk about, that we should’ve talked about, just grew, and grew… until…”  
  
Adora shakes her head, staring down at the floor. Angella reaches out to her, but hesitates, pulling her hand back.  
  
“You are still young,” Angella offers gently. “You still have time to make amends.”  
  
“I’m just scared that I won’t be able to fix it,” Adora confesses. “Even if I had all the time in the world.”  
  
Angella nods, pursing her lips in thought.  
  
“...When you’re young, or, perhaps, when you’re as long-lived as I am, things seem to last forever, and that includes our hurts. Things seem different, through my eyes. Micah is still gone. Glimmer is still a child who resents her mother, who misses her father. The war still trudges along without end.”  
  
Angella sighs. She reaches up, a hand lingering over her heart.  
  
“But things are not as eternal as they seem. While Bright Moon stands, Micah lives on. Glimmer is a woman grown, now. Your generation has risen to fight your parent’s war, and thanks to you, Adora, and the reformation of the Princess Alliance, we’re closer to victory than we have ever been. The world is changing, and you along with it. What hurts now will not hurt forever.”  
  
Adora stares at the floor. She reaches up, swiping at her eyes.  
  
“None of that matters if I lose Catra along the way.”  
  
Angella’s prim fingers curl around Adora’s chin and tip her head up so she can meet her eyes.  
  
“But you haven’t lost her,” Angella echoes. “Have you?”  
  
~*~  
  
A week later, Queen Angella sees them on that very same balcony in the middle of the night, haloed by the gentle white gleam of the Moonstone.  
  
Talking about their feelings, no doubt.  
  
Catra’s tail delicately, tentatively curls around Adora’s waist. Angella raises a hand to her mouth, smiles, and walks away.  
  
~*~


End file.
